Dearest sweet P,
Several of your recent questions I left unanswered, so I will answer them now. NO, I'll answer the only one I remember now which was about what I did in bed for that 24 hours I was for the first time in the city you call London. Answer: I don't know, I was asleep the entire time. I should imagine I did very little at all.
NOW HERE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THIS EMAIL MESSAGE TO YOU, DARLING AND PERFECT ONE WHO IS EVER IN MY THOUGHTS EVEN WHEN I AM ASLEEP WHICH IS RIGHT NOW:
I have met a Very Important Person who has totally changed my whole life and the way I live and breathe and have my granola. His name is. Wait. His name is. OK, well I don't know his name, just as I apparently don't know yours, but what does it matter, O Noble and Compassionate One? Let us just call him what I call him: No, we'd better not do that bcuz I think other people may be reading this private message right now, and it's a quite cozy affectionate term I use to describe his I mean him.
I'll just call him Albert. There. Good. You may be wondering, my Incalculable Operculum, just what the relationship is between me, OmniPotentata, and Albert.
He is my psychic-masseur, and he initially described himself as a "libidinous libertine" which I knew instantly meant that he, like me, was born under (a rock, I think) the planet Venus, by us being Librans which means the planet of LOVE oh baby baby. I have had my horoscope cast, as they say in the world of New Age stuff which is so prevalent and doubtworthy nowadays. I also had my numbers run which led to my winning $5.23 at the 7-11 lottery down the street. This has to do with what they call Numberology. My Major Number is 42 which is about 38 numbers more than the highest number they had on their charts bcuz I told them I was Far In Excess of all the stuff described thereon.
Albert felt, especially after the first massage, that my 42 number was quite accurate.
If you like, sweet P, you can go ahead and feed Vileboris now, take a break, do some pushups, chuck out the garbage ("chuck" is So Brit-sounding, as No One in my country ever says it unless they are trying to be thought Shakespearean or something), and then come back to my lengthiness.
(me playing piano, me brushing my teeth, me with . . . )
Ah, you've returned to me, O Lover Above All The Others!
I want to let you know very gently that Albert and I have bonded. I know that usually only men do that with one another, but in this case, Albert and I have done it with one another. And it feels doggoned good. This is not to say that You, sweet P, and I cannot continue "seeing" one another on a regular basis. And I think your partner would agree that our seeing one another on a regular basis is a quite healthy thing for us---and for her as well bcuz then she doesn't have to um uh "attend" to you all the time as she had previously. Vileboris, tho, I have sensed for some weeks now, is jealous of our relationship. If it comes rite down to it, darling Equipollent One, I don't want you to have to choose between Vileboris and me. But I "feel" that VB has, of late, been tearing my e-mail messages to shreds just as fast as I have been tearing my t-shirt to shreds. You may need to talk to VB and straighten him out. Tell him that I am CATWOMAN LA GRANDE. It oughta do the trick.
Back to Albert which is the point anyway. Albert wants to "do me over" like, he says, George Bernard Shaw "did over" Albert Finney in that wonderful play, The Dresser. He wants to transmogrify me from who I am rite now to whom I should be, according to the psychic pheromones that he reads in the teacup each morning as we are astutely trimming our . . . toenails.
Albert desires me to be like Marilyn Monroe if Marilyn Monroe had been as gorgeous as I am. He means that he wants me to become a Wonderful Successful Actress of Shakespeare's Plays. He recalls MM's decision, just prior to her death (which must have been the time for any and all of her decisions, don't you think?) which was that she wanted to act in Shakes' plays in order to show folks that she really could act as opposed to just show folks.
Albert is calling me, Sweetikins, so I must go now. He wants to sprinkle baking soda on my back and knead it. He calls me his Love Loaf. I don't know what that means, but I do have an oven, and he knows it.
Soda-rifically yours,
OmniPotentata
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